


Aposiopesis

by WanderingAlice



Series: Anagnorisis [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1565594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingAlice/pseuds/WanderingAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aposiopesis- a sudden breaking off in the middle of a sentence or thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of the series Anagnorisis, which focuses on the relationship between Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes as it grows, in particular concerning events after The Winter Soldier. It is not necessary to read the previous story ("Cognate") to understand this one, though events from it are referenced.
> 
> This part covers the events of Captain America: The First Avenger, up to Steve putting the plane in the water.

Bucky only got one letter from Steve after he deployed. It was dated the same day he’d left, and it was pretty much the worst news he could have gotten.

"Bucky," it read, in Steve’s clumsy scrawl (and for an artist, Steve sure couldn’t write worth a damn.) "Looks like you were right, when you said they’d take me this time. Fifth time’s the charm, I guess. There’s this scientist, Erskine, who says he thinks I’m exactly what the war needs. Well, he said what it needs is a little guy. I guess I should be insulted, but I’m grateful he’s taking me. I’m going to be training in Jersy, for the Strategic Science Reserve, and I think they want to evaluate me for a special program. I hope I’m good enough."

Normally, the idea of Steve not being good enough for something would have been met with threats of Bucky feeding the originator of the idea his own testicles, but not this time. This time, he really, _really_ , hoped that they would send Steve back to Brooklyn, hopefully within minutes of him stepping foot on that base. Bucky gritted his teeth and turned back to the letter.

"Anyway, Erskine seems to want me specifically. He was more interested in my reasons for joining than my actual abilities. The first thing he asked me was if I wanted to kill Nazis. I told him no, I just don’t like bullies. I think that’s why he chose me. The question was a test. So now I’ve got a couple days to put everything in order, and report to camp for training. To be honest, I’m scared they’ll turn me away when I show up. I just can’t come this far and be turned down again. I know you think I shouldn’t be doing this, but you know me better than anyone, so you know why I have to. I don’t know when I’ll be able to write again, but I’ll let you know how it goes. Don’t win the war until I get there! Maybe even when Erskine is done with me, they’ll let me join you in the 107th. I’m sure you’re getting into all kinds of trouble without me to watch your back, jerk.

"Seriously though, I know you won’t be safe, but just try to keep yourself alive. You’re my family, Buck. So you damn well better be there when I ship out.

-Steve"

The only good thing about that letter was the word ‘science’. If they were bringing Steve in to help at a lab developing weapons or something, that might be good. He’d get his chance to be in the army, but he wouldn’t be on the front lines. He wouldn’t be at risk of getting a bullet in him. But that was assuming he even survived Basic. Everyone had to do the same basic training, but Steve… hell, he was probably already training by the time Bucky got that damn letter, shortening his already short life span with every minute he kept trying to keep up with guys far bigger and stronger than him. What the hell was going on in that ‘Erskine’ guy’s head, letting a kid like Steve join the army?

Bucky tried to send a letter back, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to congratulate Steve on getting enlisted. Any attempt he made came out sounding sarcastic, and he knew that would just hurt Steve. In the end, he sent a short note talking about nothing in particular, and hoped that Steve would understand.

 

Bucky hated Captain America. Hated him as much as (more than) he’d ever hated anyone in his life, and he’d never even met the guy. Every time he saw one of those damn comics, he wanted to burn it. He wanted to punch all of the guys that wouldn’t shut up about those stupid movies with the stupid pretty-boy fake captain and his stupid band of ‘soldiers’. When the camp showed the films, he’d do his best to avoid the screening and go get drunk instead.

None of the other guys seemed to get it. Sure, the ‘captain’ wasn’t a _real_ soldier, but he had some pretty good stories, and it was nice to hear about somewhere where things went right all the time, and someone always saved the day. He was just an invention to make people feel a little better about the whole damn mess they had landed in when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. That was what they would say, when he expressed his dislike for the so-called super-hero. But none of them had someone like Steve back home, and that was really why Bucky hated “Captain America.”

“Captain America” was everything Steve wanted to be. He was tall, strong, healthy, handsome, popular with the dames. He was a good soldier and a good man. He fought in important battles, saved some people, protected others, and never let anyone down. He practically _was_ Steve, if Steve had been born healthy. Both Steve and this Captain America hated bullies. Both would never refuse a cry for help. Both would give everything they were just to save someone else. Steve was a self-sacrificing idiot, and that trait was glorified in Captain America. Both had blond hair and blue eyes, and even through the grainy film, Bucky would swear Captain America smiled like Steve.

But Captain America would have a normal, maybe even a long life-span. Steve would be lucky if he saw thirty. Captain America had the dames literally hanging off him. Steve never seemed to make it through a whole date. Captain America could lift a motorcycle above his head, even with three girls sitting on it. Steve had trouble just climbing the stairs with a bag of groceries. Captain America could do all the things Steve wanted so desperately to do, and he was wasting it all in front of a camera.

That was the heart of it, right there. This man, whoever he was, had saved a kid. He’d actually done that, everyone seemed to agree. But then he was never seen in action again, except on film. He toured around on some senator’s war bonds campaign, preforming his amazing feats of strength for swooning women and small children. He seemed to produce a new film every month. He was all over the radio, shaking hands and kissing babies. He was probably in the wet dreams of every advertising shark out there, his name was so popular. And for all he supposedly stood for, he didn’t ever do anything _real_. Comparing that to Steve, who was probably wearing himself out in whatever training/torture that scientist cooked up for him, made Bucky sick. So he hated Captain America. And fuck everything if they didn’t want him to sit nicely in the audience when the pretty bastard came on his ‘overseas tour’. Bucky almost hoped the Germans would attack during the performance- if only to give that _actor_ a taste of what it was really like on the front lines. Steve would have been disappointed in him, but Steve wasn’t there to be his moral compass.

Thankfully, a few days before the ‘show’, Bucky’s unit got orders to march- someone somewhere had gotten intel about a big German force, and they were going to take it. Bucky was still celebrating the fact that he wouldn’t have to sit through a live ‘Captain America’ show when everything went to shit. They were captured, overpowered by weapons that belonged in one of those sci-fi rags he and Steve had loved to read when they were kids. As they were rounded up and herded into cages, Bucky had the fleeting thought that _at least now there’s **no** way they can force me to watch Captain America_.

They were put into cages at the base, then dragged out to work on some sort of machine parts. When they were almost to the end of their strength, they were hauled back to the cages to get some ‘rest’. Sometimes, one of the scientists would come and choose a man, and drag him off for ‘testing’. None of those men ever came back. Bucky worked until his fingers felt like they were going to fall off and his arm muscles screamed with every movement. He did his share of the work, and then the work of some of the guys that fell behind- because the ones that fell behind were taken someplace, and ten bucks says they were killed, and if anything else, Steve would want Bucky to help those guys. Bucky didn’t think he could look Steve in the eyes again if he didn’t at least _try_ to help.

Unfortunately, this was probably what brought him to the attention of the scientists. On one shift, he’d done his own work, and the work of two other guys who could barely move with injuries. He’d seen the short one with the glasses (and damn if he wasn’t ugly as fuck) staring at him sometimes, then pointing at him and talking to two of the other lab coats, but didn’t make much of it. He’d been too busy making sure the kid from 89th\- the one with the blue eyes that reminded him of Steve- didn’t pass out on the way back to the cages. Only, when they got back to the cages, they grabbed him before he could get in the door. He put up a good fight, even knocked out one of the guards, but in the end he was one unarmed man, and his captors seemed to have an unlimited supply of soldiers.

Being strapped to that table was a nightmare. Bucky didn’t really remember much of it, after, but he knew there was something injected into him and a lot of electric shocks. They kept asking him who he was, then shocking him. But he kept right on repeating his name and rank, because if he didn’t, he was afraid he might forget. And then there was some sort of commotion, and the scientists left him lying there. In the distance, Bucky could hear shouts and gunfire- until it faded away and he was left alone in the semi-darkness. Even without the torture, he could feel himself fading, slipping away, so he repeated his name and rank to himself, and thought about home, and Steve.

He was still thinking about Steve when he heard someone enter the room, and he thought maybe that was why the giant had Steve’s face. Only, he had Steve’s voice, too, and was looking at Bucky just like Steve always did when he came back injured from beating up Steve’s bullies- a little sad, glad to see him, but really, really worried. “Steve?” he asked, because there was no way this was real. The strong arms holding him up couldn’t be the same skinny, fragile things he used to feel wrapped around him on cold nights in Brooklyn. But there was a sort of… he couldn’t describe it, not really, but it was a _knowing_ , like, he’d recognize Steve no matter what he looked like, and this was most definitely Steve.

“What happened to you?” Bucky asked, because he had to know. And god, he was looking _up_ at Steve now. How many times had he helped support Steve, walking down the street, with Steve looking up at him? And now, impossibly, their positions were reversed.

“Joined the army.” Steve was slightly breathless, but not in the way that usually terrified Bucky- the kind that meant an asthma attack was coming on. No, this was from plain old running. It still didn’t make sense. And then his mind jumped back to that letter, to the part about Steve working with a scientist. Steve had been so excited. So glad to finally have a chance to join the army. Goddamn scientists. What had they done to him?

“Did it hurt?” his traitorous mouth asked, even though Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to that. He couldn’t imagine something like this _not_ hurting.

“A little.” And that was just like Steve. He was lying, Bucky knew. It must have hurt a lot. But he wasn’t going to admit it, not even to Bucky.

“Is it permanent?” That seemed like an important question, though maybe running through an enemy base was not the time to be asking it. It would be the cruelest thing of all, to give Steve the body he’d always dreamed of –the body to match his giant heart- and then take it all away.

“So far,” Steve said, and Bucky just knew Steve was hoping the same thing he was, that it wouldn’t all just wear off and go away one day. Bucky wished they could stop moving, so he could get a good look at Steve, but the base was starting to explode around them. They ran up some stairs, found a walkway, and- were blocked by the bug-ugly short scientist and another man. A man Bucky had only seen once, but who he was pretty sure was the leader.

“Captain America,” the German greeted Steve, and wasn’t that was a punch in the gut to Bucky, because the man he’d been hating all this time was his _best friend_? Fuck. And Steve, good old Steve, did what he always did. He went into the fight head first, landing a punch in the man’s face as he spouted off about a Dr. Erskine. To Bucky’s horror, the man didn’t seem fazed by the blow, but the skin of his face slipped a little, revealing… something underneath his eye.

The German then attacked Steve, punching his already bullet-ridden shield and leaving a dent in the shape of his fist. Bucky watched, helpless, certain that the man was going to overpower Steve. He would have given anything to have his gun at that moment.

Steve obviously had the same thought, drawing his pistol, but was knocked on his back by the scientist’s fist. It looked like, despite the force of the blow, it had hardly done any damage- Steve managed to swing himself upright, landing feet first on the German and knocking him flying back. Bucky’s fingers tightened on the metal guard railings, remembering a time when a punch could break half of Steve’s bones. He wondered if he could get a wounded Steve out of the lab in his own, currently injured state, but he needn’t have worried. The ugly scientist seemed to sense the fight was going badly, and retracted the metal walkway, separating the two over a thirty foot drop.

The German, despite turning from the fight, boasted of being the Dr. Erskine’s greatest success. And then, he ripped his face off, revealing a red skull underneath the fake skin. Bucky said the first thing that came to mind- “You don’t have one of those, do you?” Steve didn’t answer, but he seemed as shocked as Bucky. The mask fell from his hands to burn away in the flames beneath them. Then, he said something that chilled Bucky to the bone. “You are just afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind.”

They didn’t get any time to contemplate that though, as the red skull vanished the way he had come. Steve and Bucky found a cross-beam that looked like it might support them across the chasm and ran to it, hoping to escape the blast that was surely coming. Bucky, now the lighter of the pair, went first. Halfway across, the beam shifted, dropping down. Some instinct made Bucky run, reaching the safety of the other side just as it fell- trapping Steve on the other side of a burning factory.

“There’s gotta be a rope or something,” Bucky called, watching Steve’s face.

“Just go, get outta here!” Steve demanded, and Bucky could see he thought maybe he was going to die.

That wasn’t going to happen, not unless Bucky was right there with him. They’d known each other their whole lives, almost. Steve wasn’t dying unless Bucky did, too. And so he shouted back to Steve. “Not without you.”

Steve paused, looked around himself, and saw the broken guard railings he had helped Bucky climb over. With a little effort, he bent them back like they were straws, not metal, and backed up. Bucky felt his stomach sink into his shoes. No way Steve could make that jump. But he was going to try, that much was clear. Bucky counted to three inside his head, and Steve jumped. Impossibly, he flew- up and over, almost clearing the railing on the other side. Almost. He collided with it instead, and slid, grasping desperately at the metal. Bucky was there in an instant, and with a strength he had never known he possessed, he lifted his now much heavier friend back onto the solid walkway. Without looking back they ran from the building, leaning on each other. Behind them the lab exploded in a fireball. It was dawn, and the four hundred men that Steve had rescued were waiting for him at the edge of the forest- waiting for him to lead them back home.

 

They’d been marching for almost a day when Steve finally called a halt. The base was technically seven hours behind the front lines, but with so many injured, it was going to take at least another day to get back. It didn’t help that they were trying to cover their tracks, stay away from any German reconnaissance missions- which was almost impossible, considering the tanks and trucks they’d liberated. Not that they’d have made it far without the tanks. The worst wounded rode in or on the things, while others guarded them with stolen Hydra weapons. Steve seemed to have a gift for commanding, though. He kept everything running smoothly, almost as if he could sense when they needed to stop, or take cover. They only came on one patrol- a patrol that Bucky and a few others took out with sniper rifles before they even knew they were there.

This new Steve seemed tireless, running up and down the lines, checking on everyone as they made camp. Some of the other men, including Bucky, followed him, doing their best to support Captain America as he got them back home. Bucky was grateful for their help, but also a little resentful. He was Steve’s best friend, he should be enough. But the practical part of him recognized that while maybe just Bucky was enough to support Steve, Captain America needed a bit more. He was a symbol and a hero to these men- the one who had rescued them when they’d lost all hope of getting out. And he was the one who was going to lead them home.

“Can’t believe he’s real!” Bucky heard a man saying, from where he sat propped up against a tree. Steve was off doing… something, but had ordered Bucky to rest- Bucky had begun to really feel the effects of the torture the Hydra scientists had put him through, and was on the verge of giving in to exhaustion.

“I thought all that super-soldier stuff was just for the film reels, you know?” Another man responded, “But here he is, saving our skins from Nazi bastards, just like in the comics. He’s a real hero, not just a made-up one.”

“Man, you think maybe I can get him to sign my gun?” the first man asked, and they both turned to stare at Steve, who had come into view talking with the French man and the big black guy who translated for him. Hero-worship was plain as day on their faces. Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to laugh, cry, or both. Steve had always deserved that kind of regard, Bucky knew- none better. Back in Brooklyn, he’d always started fights, trying to protect everyone. Hell, once he’d even gotten beat up trying to stop some thug from drowning a bag of kittens. No one had ever given it to him though. Not until he’d let someone experiment on him, change him into… whatever he was now.

But, looking at Steve, Bucky remembered that Steve was still just a man. Super-soldier or no, he had to be exhausted. The slump of his shoulders said that, clear as day. But these idiots with their comic books and hero worship kept on asking him for things. Couldn’t they see he needed sleep just as badly as everyone else? Bucky stood up, moving in front of the guy who wanted Steve to sign his gun before he could approach the man. No way was that block head or anyone else getting between Steve and some shut-eye.

“Bucky!” Steve turned when he saw him, giving him that blinding smile that was all Steve. At least that hadn’t changed. “I thought you were going to get some rest,” he chided, nodding a dismissal to the men he’d been talking with.

“Yeah, well, I figured no one was goanna come make you sleep if I didn’t,” Bucky said, moving to put his arm around Steve’s shoulder, like he used to, and coming up short when he realized he was reaching out as if Steve was still smaller than him.

“Thanks, Buck, but I’m fine. I gotta make sure everyone else is settled before I get some sleep. There’s sentry duty to set up, and I’m still not sure this is the safest spot, but it looked like one of the wounded guys might have started to bleed out if we went farther, and-“

“Shut up,” Bucky ordered, punching Steve lightly on the shoulder. As light as he used to when even a gentle touch had a chance of leaving a bruise. Steve probably hadn’t even felt it. But he had heard the words, and seen the motion. He stopped and stared at Bucky, looking a little betrayed. “I mean it, Steve. These guys have been on the front lines longer ‘n you. They can take care of themselves for now. And I don’t care what you say, super-soldier or no, you’ve got to get some sleep. How long have you been awake for, anyway, huh?”

Steve blinked at him for a few more seconds, a little shocked at the reprimand, then frowned. It was pretty obvious he was thinking about the question. “Um… three days, I think. Maybe four.”

“Four _days_?!” Bucky wanted to shout, but there were guys sleeping already. The Steve he remembered could barely keep awake for one day, let alone four. Hell, he remembered times when he’d thought Steve would sleep for a week, his body worn out just trying to stay alive.

“Yeah, I guess I don’t need as much sleep now. And there was the flight over, you know how I hate planes. Couldn’t sleep a wink. And then there was the performance, and that was horrible, and then I learned that you’d been taken, so Peggy- Agent Carter- and I commandeered a plane, and Stark flew me in, and then I dropped down onto the base, and, well, you’ve been with me for the rest of it.”

“Ok, then you definitely need sleep. Come on,” and this time Bucky did put his arm around Steve, leading him firmly over to the tree he’d decided was his spot for the night. Then, because Steve still seemed like he might try to stay up, Bucky dropped to the ground, and pulled Steve down with him. Or tried to, at any rate. Steve was like a rock, holding himself firmly in place. Bucky remembered when he wouldn’t have needed more than a light breeze to knock Steve down.

“Fine. Jerk,” Steve huffed, but sat down next to Bucky anyway. “But if anything happens while I’m asleep, I’m blaming you.”

“I think I can live with that. Punk.”

They sat in silence for some time, Steve taking the time to contemplate the events of the day, Bucky taking the time to contemplate Steve. His new body was…amazing, to say the least. He still hadn’t had time to actually get a good look, but Steve was now tall- at least six feet- and three hundred pounds of solid muscle. Sitting there, in the dimming light, Bucky studied his face in profile. His jaw was stronger, fuller, neck thicker. But he still had the same determined chin, the same long lashes and intense blue-grey eyes, the same straw-blond hair and full lips. Finally he had to say something, before the silence started to eat away at him. So he settled on the first thing that sprung to mind.

“You know, you never did answer my question.”

“Which one?” Steve shrugged out of his jacket, bunching it up to use as a pillow. Underneath, he still wore the Captain America uniform.

“The one about whether or not you have one of those red skull things.” Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer- didn’t think he could take it if Steve’s face had really changed too.

“No, no Buck, I don’t,” Steve said, with a slight smile on his face that said he knew why Bucky was asking. “The Red Skull, Johann Schmidt, was a… failed experiment. He forced Dr. Erskine into administering the serum before it was ready.”

“And that was the result. Was he always crazy, or did the serum do that too?” The ‘serum’. The word left a bitter taste in Bucky’s mouth.

“I think, maybe, he was always a little crazy. The serum just made him worse. Erskine said that it amplifies everything about you, physical and… not.”

“So the guy was kinda psycho, and then he took that shot and went apeshit?”

“Probably. I couldn’t say for sure. That’s just what Erskine told me.” Steve was carefully not looking at him.

“Makes sense,” Bucky said, turning the idea over in his head. “Though I don’t know why he picked you, then. You’re the craziest guy I’ve ever known.” He grinned, knowing Steve would hear the joke.

“Aw, gee, thanks, Buck.” Steve made a face.

“Don’t mention it.” They sat in silence for a little longer. “Seriously, though, it does make sense. If that serum amplifies everything, then I can’t think of a better person to have it. You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

“Bucky...” Steve opened and shut his mouth, as bad at taking compliments as ever. “I… thanks. But, you would have done great too, y’know.”

“Nah,” Bucky shook his head. “I’d suck at the whole super-soldier thing. Plus, I don’t look good in tights.”

Steve blushed, and it was good to see he still turned beet red when embarrassed. He plucked at the flimsy fabric of his shirt. “Well, I guess it could be worse. I saw one costume design that had me in nothing but a tight shirt and red white and blue shorts.” Bucky threw his head back and laughed like he hadn’t since he’d left New York.

 

He was burning. Everything was burning. But he had to run, had to find Steve. The factory was going to blow up, and Steve was somewhere inside, looking for him. Bucky rounded a corner, and there was the room he’d been tortured in, the machines all on, ready to be used. And strapped to the table, blue eyes lifeless, was Steve.

“Bucky, _Bucky_!”

Bucky jerked awake to find Steve looking at him in worry. “Steve, Steve, they killed you, they-!”

“Hey, hey,” Steve grabbed his hand, molding his fingers into a familiar position and placing them on his wrist. Bucky could feel his pulse, stronger than he’d ever felt it before, and began to calm. “It’s ok. Nobody killed me. You’re ok. I’m ok. It was only a dream.”

“Oh.” Bucky let his head fall back, thunking against the tree he’d been using as a pillow. “Good.”

Steve let him sit in silence for a moment, just feeling Steve’s pulse under his fingers.

“Do you still sing?” Bucky asked, half afraid Steve had fallen asleep.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Steve nodded. “What do you want to hear?”

“Danny Boy?” Bucky asked, it had always been one of his favorites. Steve laughed and began to sing, soft enough not to wake any of the men sleeping around them, just enough for Bucky to hear, and be lulled back to sleep.

 

Walking back to camp took another day and a half. During that time, except for when he sought him out to make him sleep or eat something, Bucky rarely saw Steve. He was too busy making sure everyone made it back. Instead, he did some scouting duties with the men he’d been in a cell with- a motley bunch that worked surprisingly well together, despite their vastly different backgrounds. The six of them managed to take up most of the work that Steve couldn’t get done, and Steve turned to them first to ask for help. When they finally made it back to the camp, it was this group that walked behind Steve to lead the others home. And Bucky walked right beside him, exactly where he belonged.

The excited murmurings started as they came into view, the whole camp, it seemed, were rushing to greet them. A man Bucky vaguely recognized as a colonel stood, staring, with a rather pretty female officer just behind. It was to this man that Steve walked, his words squeezing Bucky’s heart. “Sir, I’d like to surrender myself for disciplinary action.” Of course, he’d said he’d come to get them without authorization, but it hadn’t really hit home, until a superior officer was standing there, ready to offer punishment. But, Steve had just saved over 400 men. They couldn’t punish him. Could they?

Bucky’s moment of fear was relieved by the slight shake of the colonel’s head, and a curt “I don’t think that will be necessary.” Then the woman approached, and the way she looked at Steve (and the way Steve looked at her) made it clear this was Agent Carter, and Steve had at last found a girl. Jealousy bubbled thick and hot in Bucky’s chest as they shared a joke about being late. Of course, he’d known Steve would find a girl one day, of course he would. He was Steve, and any woman would be lucky to have him. But it still hurt a little, and he couldn’t really understand why. He didn’t want Steve like that… did he?

To take his mind off it, and to stop Agent Carter and Steve looking at each other, he raised a shout. Steve deserved cheers for this feat, so Bucky was going to give them to him. “Let’s hear it for Captain America!” And for a second, Bucky watched the crowd start cheering, looking to make sure nothing was going to hurt Steve, no one was going to ruin this moment for him. And then, he added his voice to the noise, heart swelling with pride that Steve, that scrawny kid from Brooklyn, his best friend, had just done the impossible.

 

Being back at camp was strange. Everyone now knew Bucky as ‘Captain America’s best friend,’ and he kept getting cornered by random guys asking about Steve. They kept him in the medical tent the first night, observing him to see if there were any ill effects from the torture he’d been through. They tried to keep him a second night too, but the first chance he got, he slipped out. Not being sure where else to go, he went to find Steve.

Steve had a tent of his own. A passing private was all too happy to point Bucky in the right direction, and pretty soon he found it. The private had told him that “Captain Rogers” had been in debriefings with Colonel Phillips all day, and it wasn’t clear when he would be back. So Bucky just went in, planning to hide from the doctors until Steve got back and could talk them into letting him go.

Steve was inside, in the middle of changing out of his uniform. Bucky froze. He knew he was staring, but seemed powerless to stop. Steve had just finished taking of his shirt, and _fuck_. Bucky had never seen a body that prefect.

“Bucky!” Steve grinned, then blushed a little when he noticed Bucky’s gaze on his bare chest. “You know, you could knock, like a normal person.”

“Um, I’ll just, uh.” Bucky wasn’t sure why he was so embarrassed, he’d seen Steve in varying states of undress for years. “Sorry. I didn’t think you were back. I was goanna hide from the doctors for a while.”

“At least I have my pants on. On tour, the girls kept trying to catch me without my clothes on. I had to start locking myself in a stall in the bathroom to change.”

“You sure you didn’t _want_ ‘em to see you naked,” Bucky joked, finally recovering from his shock. It was the first time he’d seen Steve without a shirt since his transformation, and he had to admit, he looked _good_. He had muscles on top of muscles.

“ _No_!” Steve gave an exaggerated shudder. “Buck, I had to work with ‘em every day!”

“So?” Bucky flopped down on the cot, trying not to watch Steve. “That never stopped me.”

“Yeah, and we all know how well that worked out. What was her name again? Sally?”

“Probably,” Bucky shrugged. “She was hot. How was I to know she was looking to be serious?”

“Sarah! That was it. Her name was Sarah. And she made you terrified to go to work for what, three months?” Steve folded his uniform shirt neatly before looking around for his bags.

“Three _weeks_ ,” Bucky insisted, remembering the ambushes every morning until she’d finally gotten the hint.

“Yeah, and then I had to talk her brothers out of beating the daylights outta you.”

“So they beat you up instead, and I had to come in and save your sorry ass.”

“Uh-huh. If I remember correctly, they were going to walk away until you showed up and made some wise-crack.” Steve dug a shirt out of his pack. “What?”

Bucky realized he was staring again. “Sorry, it’s just… you’re…”

Steve looked down at himself, then back at Bucky. “Yeah, I know. It was a shock to me, too, at first. I guess I’m kind of used to it now.”

“Can I…?” Bucky reached out, hesitant to touch but wanting very much to know if Steve’s new body felt as real as it looked.

“Sure, I guess,” Steve shrugged, sitting down on the bed next to Bucky.

“I still don’t really believe it, y’know? I mean, I see you, but in my head you’re still that scrawny kid.” Bucky placed a hand gently on Steve’s chest, relieved to find it firm and solid under his fingers. “God, you’re _warm_. Steve, you’re running a fever!”

“No, I’m not,” Steve shook his head. “That’s my normal temperature now. Something to do with the new metabolism and everything, I think.”

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed. He moved his hand lower, touching Steve’s prefect washboard abs before poking him in the side. “Still ticklish?” he asked.

“No.” Steve’s poker face was as bad as ever. And oh, that was too good to resist. Soon, they were rolling on the floor in an all-out tickle fight, just like a pair of kids. Bucky held the upper hand at first with the element of surprise, but soon Steve’s superior strength showed itself and he flipped their positions, pinning Bucky to the floor and tickling him mercilessly.

“Okay, okay- haha- I- hah- surrender!” It was hard to get the words out through the laughter.

Someone coughed. Steve and Bucky froze, turning their heads to look at the door to the tent. Howard Stark stood in the open flap.

“Uh, Mr. Stark. I didn’t see you there.” Steve moved so he was no longer sitting on Bucky’s legs.

“I just got here,” Stark told them, hiding a smile. “Thought you might want to know the doctors are looking for your friend. But it looks like you found him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Stark was staring at Steve’s bare chest, just like Bucky had been. Only, seeing him looking at Steve made Bucky want to punch the guy. “You know, I never did get a chance to see how well Rebirth worked before you were off running after that spy. I have to say, we did a great job.”

“You did,” Steve said.

“Well,” Stark turned abruptly. “I’ve got to get back to work. You know Phillips can’t wipe his nose without me.” And with that, he was gone.

“So…” Steve turned back to Bucky. “What was that you were saying about surrender?”

 

A while later, once Bucky had proven he could still beat Steve in a tickle fight (he’d had to use some dirty tactics, but winning was winning, right?) and Steve had put a shirt on, Bucky finally asked the question that had been bothering him since he’d seen the new Steve. “So, how much did they really change?”

“Hmm?” Steve had pulled out a sketchbook and was sitting on the floor, curled around the pencil and paper.

“The serum, Project Rebirth. How much did it really change about you? I can see the physical, but you said it amplifies everything.”

“Hmm,” Steve chewed on the eraser, and there was one thing that hadn’t changed. “It’s hard to really tell, but I guess… my memory’s better. I don’t forget things. Ever. And I think I’m smarter. I’m no genius like Stark, but I can think faster, spot things I would have missed before. I’m also just generally faster and stronger. I don’t get cold as easily, and the heat doesn’t bother me so much. My heart’s better, and I don’t get sick anymore. Oh, and I can’t get drunk.”

“You can’t get _drunk_?!” The list was pretty overwhelming, so Bucky focused on the thing he could make a big deal out of. “Man, that’s a tragedy!”

“It’s not like I could have before, either. You know how much medication I was on,” Steve protested. Bucky remembered, they had a drawer of Steve’s pills back in their old apartment, and it had always been so full it never quite closed.

“Still, now you _can_ , but you can’t. It doesn’t seem fair.”

Steve frowned at him. “That doesn’t make any sense, Buck.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Well, I suppose there had to be a downside to all this.” Steve gestured to his new body.

“Huh. Yeah.” Bucky couldn’t quite put a voice to what he was feeling, but he didn’t like it. This whole thing… it didn’t sit right.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve was looking at him now, pencil forgotten halfway to the paper.

“It’s just… I dunno. I guess I’m just not sure what to make of it all. I mean, are you still, y’know, _you_?” That was a cruel thing to say, and Steve didn’t deserve it, Bucky knew that the minute he’d said it.

“Bucky…” Steve sighed. “Look, I’ve changed, but I’m still the same. I’m still me.”

“Sure, but-”

“No, Buck. No ‘but’.” Steve put his sketchbook aside, giving Bucky his full attention. “That’s one thing that’s never goanna change. And you know it. What’s this really about?”

Bucky closed his eyes, anger replacing confusion and a startling sense of loss. “It’s about you going and changing yourself for no reason!” he snarled.

“No reason!” Steve stood abruptly, fists clenched. “No reason? Bucky, you _know_ my reasons!”

“No, I don’t.” Bucky stood too, aware he was yelling, but not caring. “I don’t know. All I know was that I left you back in New York to be safe, but here you are, and I don’t even know if it’s you anymore!”

“Safe!” Steve shook his head. “And you think I wanted that? To sit there, ‘safe’, while you were over here, fighting, maybe dying? And what did you think would happen to me, if you never came home, huh? Did you ever think of that?”

“At least you’d have been alive!”

“ _That wasn’t really living_!” Steve burst out, shocking Bucky. “God, Buck. I couldn’t do _anything_. I was a burden to everyone- and don’t tell me I wasn’t. I know I was. You were always afraid I was going to get sick or die. I had to depend on you for everything, I couldn’t even defend myself from the local bullies! Maybe someone else could have been happy like that, but all I ever wanted was to be able to take care of the people I care about.”

“Well if you hated depending on me so much, why didn’t you just leave?” Bucky demanded, stung.

“Because I care about you, you jerk! You’re my goddamned brother! But you were so intent on taking care of me that you never stopped to ask what I wanted.”

“Well, what did you want?”

“To take care of you, for a start! To serve my country, protect our home! To not be treated like I was made of glass! To be able to go on a date and not worry the girl was just feeling sorry for me! To walk up three flights of stairs without getting winded!”

“You didn’t need to do any of that! You were fine, just the way you were!” Bucky insisted. And there, that was it, that was why he was upset. Steve shouldn’t have had to change, he’d been prefect as he was.

“No, Buck, I wasn’t.” Steve seemed to have realized it too, putting a big hand on Bucky’s shoulder, the anger draining out of him. “I was going to die before I turned forty, that was what the doctors said. And my dream was to be a soldier. I thought I’d come to terms with not being able to serve, until the war started. And then, when you signed up… it just wasn’t fair. I could have made a living from my art, sure, but it wasn’t the life I wanted. Dr. Erskine gave me a chance to be everything I always wanted. Can’t you see that?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, giving in. “Yeah, I can. I just wish you hadn’t had to change to get it.”

Steve sighed. “Me too. I’m- I’m sorry. I know you wanted to keep me safe.”

“Well, now I guess I’ll just have to be assigned to your squad to do it. Unless they’re going to send you back to the circus.” Bucky punched him in the arm, bruising his knuckles. He wasn’t entirely sure he was ok with Steve’s transformation, but at least he could accept that it was what Steve wanted.

“Haha, very funny. Now that they’ve seen what I can do, Phillips can’t make me go back. I’m getting a squad of my own.”

“Do you know who’ll be on it?” He was certain he’d do whatever he had to, to get assigned to Steve’s team. If Steve was going to be over here, he sure as hell was going to have Bucky to watch his back.

“I have some idea. I’m not letting Phillips pick for me. If he had his way, I’d be stuck with Hodge.”

“Hodge…” Bucky knew the name. “About yay tall, blond, mean as sin? Signed up around the same time you did?”

“Yeah. He was that bastard you pulled off me behind the cinema before you shipped out.”

“I thought he looked familiar!” Bucky exclaimed, remembering. “He was assigned to a unit around here, I ran into him in camp a couple time. The last time, I think I threatened to kill him if he ever spoke to me again.”

Steve snorted. “Hah. I would have liked to see that! He was in my training group, one of the Project Rebirth candidates. I think Phillips wanted Erskine to choose him.”

“So you mean, if that doctor hadn’t picked you, we’d be stuck with Hodge as Captain America?” Bucky asked, aghast. That was a terrible idea.

“Yup. So it really is a good thing he picked me instead.” Steve sank back down on the ground, picking up the sketchbook again.

“So who do you want on your squad?” Bucky asked, avoiding the topic of whether or not Steve’s transformation was a good thing.

“Well… I don’t know if they’ll all agree, but… you know those guys who were helping me out getting everyone back here? Dugan, Falsworth, Morita, Jones, and Dernier?”

“Those guys? Hell yeah. I was in a cell with them, back in that base. They’re crazy, but they’re good men. If you ask, they’ll say yes.” Bucky approved, they were just the guys to watch Steve’s back- aside from him, of course. He hoped Steve would ask him too. He should already know Bucky would say yes without hesitation.

But Steve didn’t ask. At least, not right away. Instead, he and Bucky gathered up the men he wanted and took them out to a bar in town. The busyness of the bar was a little too much for Bucky that night, so he excused himself and sat at the counter in the back where it was quieter. Steve’s grin when he joined him told him all that he needed to know.

“What did I tell you? They’re all idiots,” Bucky told him, pushing down the worry that Steve wasn’t going to ask him to come too.

“What about you? You ready to follow “Captain America” into the jaws of death?” Steve asked, relieving him of that worry. Steve had already expected Bucky would want to come. Maybe that was why he hadn’t asked earlier.

Still, Bucky had to get him back for making him wait so long. “Hell no.” He paused, drawing it out, but in the end he couldn’t keep Steve hanging. “That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I’m following him.”

Later that night, as Bucky lay awake next to Steve in his tent, he heard Steve say, quietly, in case he was already asleep, “Thanks, Buck.”

“Any time, pal. Until the end of the line.”

 

They didn’t get much time to relax after that. Their team was the best, and the brass knew it. So the SSR sent them out again and again, and again and again they succeeded. Bucky stayed by Steve’s side, watching his back, protecting him. If he was being honest, he didn’t really care if their missions went well, so long as Steve got out safe. He didn’t ever have to worry, though. Steve was a good soldier. Whether that was because of innate talent or something in the serum, they were never really sure, but it didn’t matter where the skills came from. What mattered was that Steve was taking out enemy after enemy with little injury to himself.

The seven of them, Steve, Bucky, ‘Dum Dum’ Dugan, Jones, Morita, Falsworth, and Dernier, became a family. Brothers in arms, as the old saying went. They stood apart from the rest of the army, heroes even to the men they served with. It made them keep more to each other, avoiding large gatherings at camp when the hero-worship became a bit too much. Instead, they spent time together. They all sang a bit (though Bucky was careful to note that Steve never sang to the others the same way he sang to him,) told jokes or stories, or just enjoyed the silence together. They all soon had collections of Steve’s sketches, little things they asked him to draw, or he drew for them. Bucky kept the book Steve had given him, flipping through the pages whenever he felt down. But he didn’t need it to remind him of home anymore, because he had Steve. Steve _was_ home.

For almost two years, Bucky fought at Steve’s side. They kept each other alive through the good and the bad, pulling their comrades out of scrapes, or getting pulled out themselves. It was two years of constant tension, excitement of battle broken by periods of dull reports. Two years of spending every waking moment together. Two years of sharing a tent, falling asleep to Steve’s strong steady pulse under his fingers and waking up to Steve’s soft singing. Two years, but Bucky could have stayed like that forever. Because, despite his misgivings, Steve seemed made to be a super-soldier. He was in his element, doing everything he had always wanted to do. And if Steve was happy, then so was Bucky.

And then, came the train.

After, Bucky didn’t remember much of that mission. It had been just like all the others, joking beforehand, fighting, and protecting Steve. And then he blown out of the train, hanging onto the side, trying to get himself back in. Steve climbed out, though Bucky wanted him to stay away. It wasn’t safe, the metal could give way at any time. Steve reached for him. Bucky tried to extend his hand. And fell.

As he fell, the only thing he could think, beyond the crushing fear, was that he was leaving Steve alone. The look on Steve’s face as the metal gave way haunted him. He tried to catch hold of the cliff side, something, anything to keep him from leaving Steve. He caught a branch, his arm sticking in the fork, but the force of his fall wrenched him away. Bucky felt his arm snap, blinding pain shooting through him. The ground rushed up to meet him. His last thought was “Please God, take care of Steve.”


	2. Chapter 2

They told him not to look, that there was no way Bucky could have survived the fall, and that it was a waste of resources to search such a vast area just to recover one body. Steve didn’t care. After dropping Zola off to be interrogated he grabbed some more ammo and a truck, ready to go alone to look for Bucky. He found his commandos waiting by the vehicle, as determined as him. Steve accepted their company mutely. He was afraid if he spoke, he would break down.

They searched for three days. On the first, they found nothing. On the second, they found a rock slide and a twisted piece of metal. That was all they ever found. On the third day, it started snowing, and Phillips called them back. They walked to where they’d found the rock slide, and Steve stared at the metal, trying to feel something other than numb. He hadn’t cried, not like he had for his parents, or for Bucky’s. This loss seemed too big for tears.

“Cap,” Jones rested a palm on his arm. “We should… say goodbye, at least.” Steve nodded. “He probably went in the stream,” Jones continued. “It would have been quick, the fall would have killed him before he hit the water.” Steve nodded again. It didn’t matter how Bucky had died. What mattered was that he was gone. Steve had failed to save him.

“Come on,” Morita tugged on Steve’s elbow. “Falsworth brought his prayer book. It’s the least we can do for him.” Steve let them lead him. He didn’t tell them that Bucky hadn’t been particularly religious. The service wasn’t for Bucky, who was in God’s hands now. It was for them.

Falsworth read the prayers. Morita sang a hymn. Jones and Dernier spoke about Bucky, how courageous he had been, how important to them all. Dum-Dum poured his flask of bourbon into the water, a last drink to accompany Bucky to the afterlife. Then, it was Steve’s turn. He stood for a moment, unsure of what to do. He had always planned on dying before Bucky, it had just been one of their truths- Steve’s heart would give out long before either of them grew old. But now, that wasn’t an option, and Bucky had died. So Steve was left behind, unprepared.

At last, Steve closed his eyes and strode to the very edge of the river where Bucky’s remains must lie. He couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t ‘I’m sorry’, or ‘please come back’, so he stayed silent and remembered his friend. When he could bear the silence no longer, he opened his mouth and began to sing, the way he had always soothed Bucky to sleep when he had nightmares.

 

_The valley is hushed_

_The flowers are all dying_

_The meadow is white_

_With a winter’s snow_

_‘Lone as I stand_

_At the place where Danny’s lying_

_I say a silent prayer_

_Somehow I know_

_He hears me there_

_So soft I tread above him_

_For now he sleeps in peace_

_We hear Danny’s voice no more_

_Oh Danny boy, the pipes the pipes are calling_

_From glen to glen and down the mountain side_

_The summer’s gone and all the flowers dying_

_‘Tis you ‘tis you must go and I must bide_

_And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me_

_And all my dreams will warmer sweeter be_

_And you will bend and tell me that you love me_

_And I will sleep in peace until you come to me_

 

When he finished there were tear tracks frozen on his cheeks, but his eyes were dry. Behind him, he could hear the commandos shifting uneasily. They must have been getting cold, though Steve himself didn’t feel it. He thought, perhaps, that his heart had turned to ice. That must be so, or why else could he still function when the man who had always been his other half was lying dead, somewhere at the bottom of this river. Well, if ice was what was needed, ice was what he would be. He could allow himself to grieve when the war was over. He turned back to his commandos.

“Ok. Let’s go. We have a raid to plan tomorrow.”

“Uh, Cap,” Dugan grabbed his arm as Steve passed. “If you want to take tomorrow off, I’m sure no one would mind. Everyone knows how much he- Bucky- meant to you. We’re not going to ask you to go off to battle when your brother’s just-“

“I’m fine,” Steve cut him off, couldn’t bear to hear him say it. “Thanks Dum Dum, but I’ll be ok. I think what I need right now is to go crush the Red Skull.”

“But Cap-“ Jones was beside him now, wearing his most worried expression.

“I’m fine,” Steve said again, in a tone that closed the matter. He strode off, expecting the others to follow. They did, like always.

“So, uh, where did you learn that version of Danny Boy?” Dugan asked, obviously trying to take his mind off Bucky.

“My mom used to sing it, when we went to visit my father’s grave.”

“Where’d you learn to sing like that?” Morita caught up to them, walking a step behind Steve. “I mean, we’ve heard you sing a little before, but that was… wow.”

“I started when I was a kid,” Steve said, smiling at the memory. “I used to get sick a lot, and one time, well, more than one time, but this one time in particular, I almost died. It was… pretty bad.” He could see the dubious looks on their faces. They had never known him as anything other than a super-soldier, they had no experience with how sickly he had been as a boy. “Anyway, my heart almost gave out on me. It scared Bucky so much he started taking my pulse all the time.”

“So that’s why you do that!” Falsworth looked like he’d just solved a puzzle.

“Do what?” Jones asked.

“Sleep together, with Barnes holding on to Cap’s wrist,” Morita told him. Steve shrugged. He hadn’t thought they’d noticed.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Bucky got really scared. He was only nine. Nobody had ever almost-died on him before. So one night, I was awake because my chest hurt too much to sleep, and he started having a nightmare, twitching and whimpering something awful. I didn’t really know what to do, but I remembered my mom used to sing to me when I had bad dreams, so I just started singing. And he calmed right down. But when I stopped, he’d start having the nightmare again. I sang to him for maybe two hours before the nightmares went away. After that, I just kind of kept it up. It was sort of like my sketching, soothing, y’know?”

“You ever get lessons?” Morita asked.

“Yeah. Mom- Bucky’s mom- she gave me lessons after she heard me one time. And then I joined the church choir, and the instructor liked to give me private lessons- said I was the best voice he’d ever heard. Bucky used to make fun of me, tell me they were goanna send me off to be castrated so they could keep my voice as it was.”

Dum Dum laughed. “Heh. Sounds like something he’d do. What’d you do when he said that?”

“I pushed him in the river. He came up and promised he was going to get me back for that.”

“Did he?” Falsworth wanted to know.

“Yup. That night, he hid all my pencils. I couldn’t find any of them. And he just sat there laughing at me while I ran around the house trying to find them. Finally, our mom made him give them back when I got worn out and started wheezing.” That was a good memory. A happy memory. But Steve still only felt numb.

“I still can’t imagine you as a kid. Well, I can,” Dum Dum said, “but not the way you tell it, all sickly and scrawny.”

“There’s a picture in his file,” Morita told them, “I still can’t believe it’s him.”

“Yeah. Dr. Erskine’s project was amazing. I’d never thought it was really possible, until I was standing in that chamber and everything was just sort of… growing.”

“How did Barnes take it? The change?” Falsworth asked, and received an elbow in the ribs, accompanied by a warning look from Morita. Steve barely even noticed.

“He was a little shocked, at first. I think he didn’t really understand why I’d done it. We had a bit of a fight about it, actually. But in the end, I think he was just happy I was healthy for once in my life.”

“He cared about you a lot,” Dernier said. The others nodded.

“We used to say we’d be together ‘until the end of the line’. I guess… this was the line.”

 

After that, Steve threw himself into the role of Captain America. He did all his missions perfectly, worked tirelessly to bring down Hydra. He didn’t notice himself being more reckless than normal, or throwing himself into more dangerous situations, but the others did. His commandos tried to help ground him, keep him from losing himself. What they didn’t know was that he already had. He had locked away everything that made him ‘Steve Rogers’ and not ‘Captain America’, and buried it beneath the ice in his heart. He went through the motions, tried to feel the things he had before, but it was useless. Bucky’s death had just about ended his world. All that was left was the mission.

Maybe, if they’d had more time, the commandos and Peggy could have healed him, brought Steve back to them. But Steve did his job well. Too well. And all too soon, they had the location of the final Hydra base. Steve’s plan was dangerous, foolhardy, and suicidal. On anyone else, they would have called it a death wish. But because it was Steve, and the plan could work, they only traded anxious glances and hoped that Steve would survive whether he wanted to or not.

Steve went in with one goal- destroy Hydra. In the base, in front of Schmidt, on the plane, that was all he really cared about. The only time he thought about anything else was when Peggy kissed him. And, only for a second, he allowed himself to feel her lips on his. He still thought maybe he loved her, but even that could only take his mind from his goal for a second. And then he was on the plane, fighting, and everything was clear again.

At the controls, Schmidt finally dead, Steve had a choice. He could take the plane down, ride it all the way into the water, and be certain that it was gone. Or he could set it to crash and run, take one of the mini-plane/bomb things and have a chance at escaping- and a chance that the plane might not crash. That choice was easy.

He could go back to Peggy, he knew that. She wanted him to come back. He could see out the war, now that the greatest threat was taken care of. He could have the life Bucky always told him he should have. Fight for his country. Maybe sell his art. But he’d be living his whole life with a hole where Bucky should be. Maybe he did love Peggy, but she’d never been his whole world like Bucky had been.

It wasn’t really an emotional decision, in the end. Steve evaluated his chances, and took the one that made certain everyone else survived. Even as he talked to Peggy, letting her voice accompany him into oblivion, he only had one thought.

_I’m coming, Bucky_.


End file.
